Ella had been right. The archive didn't sound scientific and worse, it didn't look it. The archive was a mess. A frigging dumping mess. Her brown eyes scanned the room they had just entered. Piling at every corner of the room were heaps of files and papers that had seen better days.

The ones that were disciplined enough to be arranged on the shelves at both sides of the room were sticking out, threatening to join the mountain of jumble below them. Beams of sunlight thrust through the large window at the end of the room that overlooked a beautiful view of London, its tall buildings, and busy streets.

"This is the archive," Howard stated, grinning evilly behind Ella.

"When was the last time someone entered here?" She patted a book, dust escaping its hardcover. In reaction, she sneezed, her bushy beard moving.

"A year ago. Lord Robert fired the last one after he said Gerrard Finley was better than him."

What in the--Ella was right! Both of them were arrogant blokes! Robert couldn't accept the fact she was a competent woman. No wonder he stooped so low to threaten her about the job. She was here and there was no going back. She took that decision when she walked into his office.

"So," she gestured at the mess, "am I to clean this, or do you have a cleaner?"

"Oh, we do. But you are to do this yourself. It is your office after all."

Ella clenched her fists till they hurt like hot irons on skin. Howard had made it clear he didn't like her. Was this all because of the handshake? She didn't mean to hurt him. Men!

Before she could batt an eyelid, Howard slipped out of the room, shutting the door. She was left alone in the mess of a room, the jumble of papers her silent companions.

"Dear God," she moved to the end of the room where a desk lay under turned. Fixing her hands under the furniture, she lifted it, groaning, veins popping on her forehead, "Frigg!"

The desk landed, Ella toppling over, face flat onto the dusty surface. Wiping her face clean, she turned to face the kingdom of messmania. This wasn't what she had expected her work to be. She had thought she would be in a workshop making a moon lamp. But the universe had to prove her wrong by placing her in an archive that hadn't been used in a year.

Whatever Robert's plan was, she wouldn't let it work. It was plain that he didn't want her to work for him since she was a woman. But she would prove him wrong.

"Alright," she cracked her fists, "Time to clean."

Robert's blue eyes flew over his files, each page turn exhausting him. It had been six hours and Ella hadn't walked into his office to complain about the archive room. Did she like the job? From what he knew, she fancied science to sorting a huge pile of folders that hadn't been arranged in over a year.

Scaring her about working for him didn't work. Why did she have to be stubborn? Shutting close the last unread file on his desk, he stood and stretched his arms, yawning. The dangers of what he was doing were at the back of his mind. If he were ever to be caught... Dear God, the things he would be in for.

"Maybe I should go check on her," he muttered under his breath. Who knew, maybe already ran away. That would explain why she hadn't come in complaining as all women do.

Orbiting his desk, he started to the door, a hand behind his back. Grunts and groans erupted from the archive room and Robert didn't knock before walking in, this was his establishment. At the far corner of the room, Ella was perched on a shelf, cleaning the top. By the other end were black polythene bags filled with what Robert assumed to be dirt.

She had defied the odds as what he had seen, was far from what he fathomed. The floor was sparkling neat! The-the-the files were stacked on the shelves and the afternoon rays brimmed the room with sunny glory. How was she able to do this?

She's a woman. They know how to clean.

Bollocks! Why didn't he think of that? Of course, cleaning the archive won't be a problem for Ella. She was a woman and they were trained to cook and clean for their husbands. Getting rid of her would be harder than he thought.

"I'm impressed," Robert said, leaning on a shelf. She didn't seem to notice him until this time and that was a bad thing. For she fell off the shelf, screaming a scream too feminine to belong to a man. Robert pitied the poor floor—Ella's derriere was heavier than everything in the room combined.

"Frigg!" She hissed, rubbing her behind.

"I believe women aren't meant to swear. It's," Robert lifted a brow, "Improper."

The look she gave him let him know that she had other improper things in mind for him-mostly consisting of fists and arm swings. There was another improper thing about to happen to her but she didn't think of that one. Her fall had set the ladder out of place and it was leaning toward her. Instead of the bloody woman running for her dear life, she covered her eyes, an arm above her face.

Cursing under his breath, Robert dashed to her and held the shelf, files falling to the floor. It was heavier than he expected and his muscles were begging to be set free of their agony.

"Move along, woman," he commanded, not being able to hold the shelf for another minute.

Ella opened her brown eyes and narrowed them, "Why does that sound insultive?"

"I was reminding you of the reason why you fell off the shelf." Robert groaned, the shelf pushing him further to the ground, his curls of golden hair shielding his face. And the bloody woman still stayed there! She didn't even give a frigg that he was holding a heavy shelf for her to roll away.

"Do you have a problem with women?" Ella huffed, scowling.

Robert's neck was getting sore. "Not at all. I love all women. They're beautiful creations of God. But at times it's good to stay in where you belong."

"You think I don't belong here?"

"Not think, I know."

Ella's warm brown eyes went cold. Frigging cold. The truth was bitter. Women couldn't handle it. It was no surprise this statement made her pissed off.

"I have always dreamt of being a scientist. I have always admired the work of great men before us. This is my chance and I won't ruin it." Here came that stubbornness again. Why couldn't she leave? The door was just right there!

"Move or we both get crushed by this shelf!"

Gritting her teeth, she moved aside and Robert carefully slipped out of the shelf, the wooden structure shattering to bits and splinters as it crashed. Termites must've had a feast.

"That'll cost ten pounds to fix," Robert informed and locked eyes with Ella. "I'm deducting it from your wages."

"Was I meant to earn wages?" Her tone was high in shock.

Robert raked his hair, sending stray locks backwards. "Of course, you would earn wages. Having a woman working for me is illegal. I wouldn't want to condemn my conscience further by not paying you." He glanced at the shelf in need of a repair. "I'll have the carpenter fix this. You're dismissed for today."

She looked like the Queen had asked her for tea. "W-what do you mean?" Her finger pointed at a clock, "It's still three in the afternoon."

She needed to leave so he could call the carpenters. And the worst thing he could ever do was to leave her alone in a room full of men. She would stand out because of her generous properties. But he couldn't tell her. He knew her long enough to know that she would insist to stay. She was stubborn.

"I'm the boss," Robert walked past her, her shoulders brushing against his forearm, leaving a warm tingle on his hard skin. "You do as I say."

"I'm the employee. I have the right to know why you made your decisions, Your Lordship," she argued, crossing her delicate arms.

Robert blew out hot air and spiralled. From such a distance, he got the chance to admire her graceful anatomy. If only his hands could touch them. Jesus Christ! Why would he want to do that?

You do it a lot.

He knew, but Ella was different. She was driven by a goal that affected the choices she made. Which was the main reason she was a stubborn nut head. Most women he met were eager to engage in sexual activities with him. But Ella so far had made no moves in that regard. In a way, she reminded him of himself—determined to achieve a goal.

Why did she want this so badly to the extent that whatever he tried to get rid of her didn't work? It must be a strong motive. Just as his was getting his parents to love him more by making the moon lamp which would take society by storm.

"I'm leaving for my family's house now. Your services are only needed when I'm working. So," he gestured at the door, "You may leave."

She was about to curtsy when she realized what she was wearing and stopped mid-air. Robert chuckled at her dilemma and decided to help out.

"You bow whenever you're in that uniform."

Blushing red, she bowed. "Have a good day, Your Lordship. And thank you for saving me from that termite-infested bookshelf."

"I thought you would never say that." He smirked.

"I apologize for my bad manners."

"Oh, no need." He waved her off. "You would be dastardly rich if you were paid anytime you portrayed bad manners."

She frowned.

Robert smirked, dimples denting his cheek. "It's a joke, Mr Law. You don't know how to take jokes?"

"Oh, I do. I just take yours personal." She pursed her lips. "I'll be off, Your Lordship."

Robert did a curt nod and watched her leave the office. What an interesting woman. It was a shame he was trying to get rid of her. If only women were allowed to do men's jobs. If only.

"How was it?" Juliet asked, shutting close the door Ella had left through this morning. She had come back from work after her delightful boss deemed it proper to let her go too early.

Sighing, she dropped into Juliet's bed, the white sheets rumpling. "I am certain he doesn't want me to work for him."

"Goodness, why?"

"I don't know. But—" Ella rolled on the bed and felt something hard on her stomach. She wasn't wearing a corset and this was a bed-it was meant to be comfy, not rock hard. Moving aside the sheets, she uncovered a brown big book, "what is this?"

"What?" Juliet's gasped when she saw the book. In a flash, she was next to Ella, seizing the book from the bed. What in Midas's name just happened? Was Juliet hiding something from her?

Ella was in deep shock. "Jules?"

"I'm sorry," Juliet hid the book behind her back, blue eyes moving left to right, "there's nothing in there for you to see."

An arrow of pain stung Ella's heart. "You know you can tell me anything, Jules?"

"Trust me, you don't want to see the contents of this book." Her friend smiled nervously.

Ella considered it. She wasn't glad that Juliet was hiding something from her. She told her everything she needed to know about her plans to work for Robert. That was a big secret in her opinion. She wondered why Juliet couldn't tell her the contents of that book, let alone allow her to see it. But she would respect her friend's decision even though it hurt her to do so. She knew Juliet would eventually tell her soon enough.

"It is fine if you don't want to tell me." Ella sat up.

"Really?" Juliet let out a sigh of relief.

Ella nodded.

"Thank you, Ella." Juliet grinned and put the book away in her wardrobe, returning with Ella's daywear. "You need to change."

"Indeed."

Ella got into her outfit and while she was doing it, Juliet briefed her on what she had to do to keep her mother out of her room. It turned out that claiming Ella needed privacy since she was shy about her painting, was good enough to keep her mother at bay.

Though Ella wasn't exactly happy with the lie since she considered herself an outspoken person. The two friends agreed that they would soon need to start doing actual paintings so their parents won't uncover their secret.

"Thank you." Ella hugged Juliet and waved at her as she walked down the pavement. The once less busy road was now bustling with people going about their various businesses. Her house was in view and so was a lavish black carriage parked outside it. Her father didn't own a carriage this opulent. It was familiar but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. A man in a black tailcoat left the house and hopped into the driver's seat of the carriage.

Ella took off, wanting to stop the driver and ask who he was. But her speed was unmatched for the horse of the carriage and it was already down the street by the time she arrived at the entrance of her house. Cursing expletives too vulgar for a female, she stomped up the short flight of stairs. She knocked on the door and in seconds it flung open.

A man with short brown hair and a dark bullet tailcoat came out and smiled dearly when he saw Ella. "My lady."

"Mr Finn," she grinned. Finn was the butler of the household and he wasn't present this morning since he went to see his sick wife last night. He was the only one in this house who knew how much she loved science. He had once helped her take a book from her father's office when she was sick, "how is your wife?"

"A lot better. Your mother told me you're taking art lessons." He moved aside, letting her come in, "How did that go?"

Ella settled her parasol on the wall of the foyer.

"Spiffing, Mr Finn." She glanced around and bent her head, asking the question ringing in her mind. "Who was the person who had come to visit."

Finn didn't get a chance to answer as Mrs Featherington came out of a corner. "Ella, my dear! I have the best of news! Sir Gerrard has sent you flowers."

Oh, Crapulous!